


midnight train

by nui (cogito)



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Baccano! Au, M/M, PWP pretty much, trains trains trains trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cogito/pseuds/nui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shintaro and Kuroha fuck on a train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	midnight train

**Author's Note:**

> it's 5am fight me.
> 
> also kuroha in a suit. its been so long since ive actually written smut im really bad at this please kill me.

“You look rattled,” Kuroha says from across the table, breaking Shintaro out of his trance.

The boy shuffles nervously with his wig and tries to pull the cut of his corset higher. The corset pulls uncomfortably tight around his waist and he can barely breathe, but the threat of exposing his bare chest in a train full of people made him uncomfortable than the constricted airflow around him.

“How do women… even… breathe in these things?” He rasps, glancing at Kuroha as if Kuroha had some other alternative in mind. Kuroha slaps Shintaro’s hand away, catching his wrist and leaning across the table to the extent that their faces are mere milimeters apart and close enough to kiss.

“Stop that, you’re attracting unwanted attention.”

Shintaro yanks his hand free from Kuroha’s tight grip, rubbing the nail marks in his arm while glowering at his supposed bodyguard. The other sits down, returning to sip coffee with the intermittent glance outside at the window. It’s night, though, not much to look at but forest and trees.

“Although,” Kuroha mumbles low enough for only them to hear, “If you _really_ wanted to take it off, I have an alternative.” He flashes a grin, and Shintaro’s face flushes as red as the dress on him.

“I hate you. ” Shintaro growls, finally letting go as he gives up with pulling the dress any higher. It wouldn’t budge anymore.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Shintaro reaches out to slap him, only to have Kuroha grab his wrist again. Then he places it against his own chest, letting the small patting noise replace the slap. “There. Are you happy now?” Kuroha asks, smiling gently until Shintaro sits down again.

“I don’t know how people deal with you.”

“They don’t, not usually.”

Before Shintaro even has a chance to apologize for slipping up and making Kuroha feel bad, Kuroha’s attention is diverted elsewhere down the hall. He hails down one of the waiters in the cart for dessert. Shintaro instead stares at his hands, occasionally sneaking glances at Kuroha in his tailored suit between glances out the window.

 _Damn_ , he thinks, _Kuroha looks nice in a suit. Sleek and proper_ , even if his table manners leave much to be desired. His breath catches in his throat and he chokes, coughing and thumping his chest before anyone else can stare at them. He doesn’t need any other eyes on him besides Kuroha’s leering yellow ones. _I fucking hate him._

“Honey, do you want some pie?” Kuroha asks all of a sudden and snapping Shintaro out of his trance again in a fake concerned tone of voice, pushing forward his fork.

Reluctantly, Shintaro opens his mouth so Kuroha can shovel the pie in. It’s not like Kuroha can do anything worse than putting him in this dress and making him wear this wig that doesn’t even look natural on him.

Kuroha takes the distracted opportunity to kiss him, sliding his fingers down Shintaro’s jawline and gripping his chin tightly. When their lips touch his lips are soft against Shintaro’s, softer than he ever would have expected them to be. Meanwhile his invasive tongue sneaks inside Shintaro’s mouth, sucking and exploring the inside walls. Shintaro manoeuvres his own tongue to stop him, and when Kuroha doesn’t get the hint, clamps his teeth down as forcefully as he can. Kuroha reels back against his chair, nursing his wounded tongue. Shintaro grins, having emerged victorious.

The murmurs of the other patrons reach his ears: Something about them being disgraceful, and about not kissing in a private car where it was more acceptable. Shintaro glares at the back of their heads when they’ve turned around. It doesn’t matter what they say. Instead, Shintaro wipes at his mouth and glares at Kuroha sitting across from him. Kuroha gives a small wave and smiles, oily and slick. Shintaro resists the urge to smack him again. Something about attracting attention gnaws at the back of his head, it would make this situation worse.

“I really fucking hate you,” Shintaro mutters again, louder and more bitter this time.

Kuroha doesn’t say anything this time, and Shintaro suspects it’s because his tongue is still bleeding. Good, he can’t deal with Kuroha mocking him. He gathers the shawl around his shoulders tighter around himself instead. Someone’s opened a window across the hall without warning and the speed of the train is making the wind rushing in bone chilling.

The lights go out without warning and panicked screams ring out. Shintaro glances around, trying to find the source. The train continues moving judging by the rocking of the gears, but the rattling and clanging noises of cups and plates clash against the confused screaming of the passengers is alarming to say the least. Someone shoves him into one of the seats before settling their hands around Shintaro’s butt. Shintaro bites his tongue, almost screaming.

Kuroha snickers against his ears as he clasps Shintaro’s hands together, “Take this,” He whispers, “And find a way out.” Kuroha’s calloused fingers are rough against his, squeezing something into his hands and then suddenly disappearing into the darkness illuminated only faintly by moonlight. Shintaro groans, of course Kuroha would take advantage of this situation to sexually harass him.

Shintaro fumbles with the object in his hands, unable to determine what it is without light. It feels like a lighter though, and Shintaro thinks about the lighter that Kuroha used to light cigarettes in the street after stopping by restaurants or offices. He fiddles with it a bit more to try and find the flame, and luckily finds it before it falls out of his hands. He clicks it on, and uses the small light to crawl through the car.

He makes his way through, wielding his lighter as a weapon. Other passengers hurriedly do the same or dive out of the way. The lights don’t look like they’re coming back any time soon, and the train conductor doesn’t seem to have noticed. Then he looks out at the other segments of the train through the door and frowns; it just seems to be their segment that’s gotten the blackout and Kuroha must have been telling him to get to another segment. Kuroha’s nowhere to be seen. Gathering the train of the skirt and fixing his wig that’s still somehow firmly attached to his head. The memory of Kuroha breathing on the back of his neck makes him shudder as he rubs his arms. “Don’t rip that, it belonged to my mother.”

Shintaro looks up, still trying to make sure the skirt is impeccable and spots Kuroha standing between the segments of the train without the slightest bit of wobbling. He climbs down from the roof to walk towards Shintaro. Even as Shintaro clutches the railings to try and get steady, Kuroha seems firmly planted on his feet. Seeing his bodyguard safe, Shintaro sighs a breath of relief, until he realizes that the blood on Kuroha’s coat wasn’t there the moment before the lights turned off. “Hey, are you al-”

Kuroha brings a finger to his lip, motioning for Shintaro to hush. He shrugs out of his coat effortlessly before making strides towards his client, closing the gap between them with a few quick strides. The interior of the shirt is luckily only a little bit stained, and Shintaro makes the connection that it isn’t Kuroha’s blood that’s lining the sleeves. It doesn’t change the fact that his hands are still bloodstained and the small puddles of blood pool in the direction he came. “What happened?” He asks, choking.

“I’m just dandy, Shintaro,” Kuroha says, hovering above Shintaro’s face as he wipes his hands on the red fabric of Shintaro’s dress, “I just had to take care of business.”

“You’re covered in blood!” Shintaro yells, “What kind of business involves being covered in bl- Oh.” Before his lips close, Kuroha kisses him gently. Shintaro is too dazed to push him away. Instead, he lets Kuroha trail his lips down his chin and his neck, nicking his collarbones with two quick pinches of his teeth. Kuroha’s hands firmly settle against Shintaro’s shoulders, pulling the shawl off and tossing it elsewhere as he helps Shintaro slide out of it.

“I thought, ngh- you said this was- a heirloom-!” Shintaro groans, giving into Kuroha’s prodding and sliding his arms around his neck.

“Really, you’d believe that drivel?” Kuroha breathes in Shintaro’s ear, fingers slipping under the slit of Shintaro’s dress and trailing his nail up Shintaro’s thigh. “Would you believe anything I’d say?” Another kiss planted against the crook of Shintaro’s neck, just across from Shintaro’s throat. “That’s cute of you.”

“Shut u-up-!” Shintaro barks back, shivering under Kuroha’s fingers barely gracing his skin, “And we can’t do it here, what if someone sees-?” The second part of his words is a hushed whisper. Kuroha pulls against the fabric of Shintaro’s dress in response. The shredding noises reach Shintaro’s ears, and his squirming becomes more violent. He unpins his arms from Kuroha’s neck, and starts shoving at the assassin above him. “H-hey- We c-can’t- Someone’s gonna-”

“Not if we hurry. The lights are coming back.” Then Kuroha pulls Shintaro’s wig, tangling his fingers with fake hair, and rips it off to toss it in the direction his shawl went. “They won’t have a reason to come out.”

“They always have a reason,” Shintaro glowers again, “Can’t you wait another four hour-” Kuroha’s hands slides in his underwear, and his bitching drown inside his throat. Shintaro pulls his hand away from Kuroha’s chest, biting on his wrist to keep from moaning. The assassin makes short work of his throbbing erection with rhythmic strokes and a predatory expression. Shintaro’s other hand grabs a fistful of Kuroha’s shirt, ignoring any wrinkles he makes as he yanks Kuroha closer.

“No,” Kuroha replies, pulling Shintaro’s underwear from his hips and tearing strips from the velvet dress, “You know I’m an impatient man. I don’t like to wait.” Another kiss, this time against Shintaro’s collar bone.

“Should I t-take this thing off?” Shintaro says between gasps for air.

“Leave it on, I want to rip it apart with my teeth.”

Shintaro’s cheeks flush again as Kuroha wipes his stained hand against the dress, shredding another strip into the distance. Then he slides two fingers into Shintaro’s mouth, and Shintaro sucks on them vigorously, coating them in spit. Kuroha coos, “Good boy,” before placing a kiss against Shintaro’s jaw, aching from sucking so hard. Shintaro makes some noise of affirmation at being acknowledged and slides himself closer to Kuroha.

Kuroha’s hands skim up under both sides of Shintaro’s dress again, brushing gently against his thigh and hitching what remains of the dress at Shintaro’s hips. Shintaro sighs, only to hiss violently into Kuroha’s chest when Kuroha wedges his finger inside.

“K-kuroha- fuck- ”

“As you command,” Kuroha whispers in response to Shintaro’s bucking hips. He slides his second finger inside, and Shintaro arches his back, rubbing his body against Kuroha’s in an attempt for friction. Some of the dress slides further down his body, exposing his chest in the cold September air, and Kuroha kisses him again, crushing their lips together.

The back of Shintaro’s head slams against the steel wall with Kuroha’s pressure, but he pays it no mind as Kuroha’s fingers dig deeper inside him and Kuroha’s tongue enters his mouth. This time, Shintaro doesn’t bite down. Instead his own return kisses are more frantic and hurried. Between every moan he utters from Kuroha’s fingers, his lips part a bit more, and Kuroha pushes his tongue into Shintaro’s mouth a little further until Shintaro protests again.

“K-Kuroha-”

“What do you want, Shintaro? Tell me,”

“F-fuck- You said-”

“If we did it quickly, no one would find out? You better start begging then.”

After a moment of internal debate, Shintaro presses his lips against Kuroha’s, mumbling furiously against Kuroha’s lips. He slings his leg around Kuroha’s hip. Content, Kuroha whispers in return, “That’s a rather quick turn around for you, isn’t it?”

Shintaro voices his frustration with a grunt. Kuroha coos, “As much as I want to see your face when I’m fucking you,” He trails kisses down Shintaro’s face until he whispers against Shintaro’s lips, “The dress is too much of a bother for me to fuck you like this...”

“That’s why I a-asked if you wanted me to take it o-off- ” Shintaro says through harried breaths as he shuffles around with Kuroha’s guidance. His hands finally find the handlebar against the side of the doors and his knees buckle as he gets into position. Kuroha presses Shintaro’s hands against the wall, and hitches the dress up against the small of Shintaro’s back.

“That would make it hard for me to rip it off with my teeth,” Kuroha replies, undoing the buckles of his belt, “What would be the fun in that?”

The door creaks open on the both of them.

Shintaro’s face goes wide in alarm, only to be shattered by one of Kuroha’s violent thrusts as Kuroha enters him. Kuroha shifts himself to better push at Shintaro’s insides, and the younger teen cries out in unexpected pain. The unfortunate person that’s walked into the scene only stares in shock and confusion for several seconds before turning around back into the cart. Shintaro, through his half glazed over, glassy eyes barely sees Kuroha move, but the red on his sleeves flash before his eyes. A moment later the man stumbles back inside, his face icy like stone, and a thump is heard as the door closes behind him.

“W-wha- I t-told you someone w-w-ngh-” Shintaro tilts his head towards the scene, only to have Kuroha’s thrusts catch him off guard again. He arches his back as Kuroha penetrates deeper inside him, his hands cushioning him between Kuroha and the wall. Both of Kuroha’s hands are on his hips to push himself deeper. Shintaro groans again as Kuroha fucks him against the door. Kuroha’s speaking, but it sounds far off and filtered through glass as he continues speaking, Shintaro moans, “K-Kuroha-”

“Hush,” Kuroha whispers, reaching forward to settle his hand around Shintaro’s cock, “I shivved him, but they’ll be here at any moment to investigate, and more noise will attract more of them, won’t they?”

“T-then- Aah- Fuck-fuck--”

“So you’re fine if I speed up, right?”

Shintaro groans in response, and Kuroha takes that as a confirmation to increase pace. Behind him, Kuroha’s breathing is shallow and husky and growing with each thrust. Kuroha’s breath is on his neck and his voice is in his ears and his hand is settled comfortably on his dick, Shintaro’s mind goes back.

Kuroha’s hand rubs against Shintaro’s cock, pumping the exposed shaft and teasing its head, “Mm, you really like doing it in public spaces, don’t you? You tightened up when that guy came out all of a sudden.”

“I d-don’t, K-kuroha—” Shintaro tries to explain, but ends up spluttering as Kuroha thrusts inside him again. His knees buckle in rhythm with Kuroha’s thrusts. He doesn’t feel that far now.

“Nngh-- Kuroha, I’m gonna—”

He takes Kuroha’s breathy groan as permission, climaxing inside Kuroha’s skilled fingers. Shintaro’s hips buckle one more as Kuroha pulls out at the last moment, spilling all over Shintaro’s back and all over the skirt. Kuroha was hot inside him, but his sperm on his back makes Shintaro jerk forward.

As Shintaro turns his head around to complain hot semen spills from Kuroha’s dick and splashes on to his face and the ruined corset of the skirt. Shintaro makes a disgusted face, despite the warmth in his back side fromhaving been fucked, and Kuroha laughs.

“God, Shintaro, you’re so beautiful like this,” Kuroha sighs.

He tucks himself in and squats down to Shintaro’s height, gripping Shintaro’s chin firmly before kissing him again. Shintaro doesn’t fight back, weakly kissing him in return and gathering the remains of the shredded skirt. “I’m fucking… exhausted, asshole.”

Then the lights come back on, and Kuroha stands up again, offering a hand to Shintaro, collapsed in a heap against the floor. “As much as I like you looking like this,” Kuroha says, “Let’s go get you something to wear or we’ll get arrested for public indecency.”

Shintaro rolls his eyes before accepting Kuroha’s hand. Instead, Kuroha sticks out his foot, and Shintaro falls forward into Kuroha’s arms. He flings his arms around Kuroha’s waist defensively, and Kuroha squirms a little to pull out his handkerchief, wiping his seed off Shintaro’s face. Then Kuroha secures Shintaro’s footing before pushing Shintaro’s back against the walls once more as his hands roam the expanse Shintaro’s exposed skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for Historical accuracy (why do I even try)
> 
> 1\. Baccano takes place in the 1930s, so accordingly I did the same for this fic. Trains of the 1930s didn’t actually have tables unless they were in the dining cart or first class, so I put Kuroha and Shintaro there for no reason other than the fact that I wanted them to lean over and kiss lmfao. You can see a picture of the dining cart here (http://i50.tinypic.com/2mr8uv5.jpg)
> 
> 2\. I was actually a little bit iffy about using the word “rattled” in this case because I don’t think it’s been invented to be used in the context that I used it in yet? But you know what heck it, I mean someone had to use it before it was popularized to get it popularized.
> 
> 3\. The Zippo lighter and company were invented and founded by George G. Blaisdell in 1932. The Zippo was noted for its reliability, "Life Time Warranty" and marketing as "Wind-Proof".[3] Most early Zippos used naphtha as a fuel source.


End file.
